


Give It To Me Straight

by red_crate



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dirty Talk, Dorms, Drunk Sex, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Hook-Up, M/M, Mild Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier Has a Big Dick, Size Kink, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: Thank god he’s drunk enough not to have to think about what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with.Don’t fuck around with straight boysis as good as a golden rule for gay kids like him. But here he is, stretched out, half naked beneath the horn dog from across the hall that talks about pussy so much that even Eddie has grown immune to crassness of it.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 33
Kudos: 262





	Give It To Me Straight

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written in ages, but I got sucked into this fandom. So here I am. I’m just glad I finally wrote something. 
> 
> **  
> **  
> Mild warning: Eddie assumes/“knows” Richie is straight here, and he has some mildly dark thoughts about sleeping with a straight guy. However, this sex scene is understood to be mutually beneficial to both participants. If this general concept squicks you out, please don’t read this fic.
> 
> This fic is surprisingly feels heavy and rather dysfunctional. At the moment, it has an open ending that might leave some readers bummed. Take care.

In the moment, Eddie isn’t sure how it got to this point. However, he has just enough clarity to flash forward and imagine how freaked out sober!Eddie will be when (if!) he remembers it. 

“Wanna share with the class, there, Eds?” Richie Tozier’s voice is huskier than usual as it floats over Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie wasn’t aware that he’d been snickering to himself, but now he frowns and pushes the large hands away from where they’d wandered around his back and towards his lower stomach. His cheek and temple are digging into the mattress, when he shakes his head to dismiss Richie’s needling. “C’mon, I thought you wanted to get off.” 

The hands come back. One grips him by the hip while the other pinches into Eddie’s chin so Richie can lever Eddie’s face back at just shy of an agonizing angle. With that same husky voice—one Eddie wouldn’t have thought to imagine coming from the perpetual jokester—Richie says, “You wanted a dick tonight, right? Are you already aching for it so bad you can’t stand a few niceties?”

Eddie doesn’t consciously mean to push backwards against Richie’s lower half, but it happens. Thank god he’s drunk enough not to have to _think_ about what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with. _Don’t fuck around with straight boys_ is as good as a golden rule for gay kids like him. But here he is, stretched out, half naked beneath the horn dog from across the hall that talks about pussy so much that even Eddie has grown immune to crassness of it.

“Get the fuck on with it,” Eddie mumbles, wrenching his chin free. His tongue smooths against the hurt area of his cheek. The dull ache of the pinch cutting nicely through the numbing quality of the alcohol until it joins the swirling arousal in his gut. “You gonna fuck me or what, dickhead?”

“So fucking pushy. I knew it.” Richie says lowly, maybe to himself. It sounds amused. 

Eddie’s eyes slip shut as a wave of dizziness washes over him, but he still feels good. Still likes the weight and presence of the guy looming over him. Richie is tall and lanky, big shoulders and big hands. Beneath him, Eddie can allow a moment of weakness to bask in the vulnerability here, to revel in the fact that he’s drunker than he should be for any kind of hook-up. That he’s using Richie just as much as Richie is clearly using him right now. 

The first slide of Richie’s cock over Eddie’s ass is slow and deliberate, dragging down until the blunt, fat head nestles between the crack of Eddie’s ass. Maybe they both hitch a breath at that, but the only real thing Eddie is aware of is how that cock blazes a course downwards, down until it’s rubbing over the bud of his asshole. The sensation is so vivid when everything else feels far away, that Eddie feels himself stretch into it, push back as if his body could accept the intrusion without warning. 

“Holy shit,” Richie wonders from somewhere above Eddie. His cock rubs, tantalizingly slow. “You’re a fucking slut for dick, huh? Ass this sweet, I don’t know how anyone leaves you long enough to go to class.” 

The words wash over Eddie, bringing equal parts shame and unexpected pride. Richie does that somehow—always makes Eddie feel _weird_ and yet somehow _special_ with his dumb jokes, nicknames, and fake come-ons. Eddie can’t stop the moan that slithers out of his throat. His fingers curl into the sheet beneath him as he rocks his hips backwards, seeking friction against his own hard cock where it’s trapped.

Richie’s cock slaps dully over his ass again, and Richie says, “Put your fingers in there.” 

The instruction has Eddie feeling hot all over, twisted up as he curses at Richie again. “Just do it, and stop playing around. Ben will be back from his date soon.”

“Yeah, right,” Richie mutters. There’s movement on the bed, then Richie is twining his fingers with the ones on Eddie’s right hand. They’re slathered in lube. He leans down, sliding his hand free again and tucking it between Eddie’s lower back and his own hips so he can slowly stroke his own cock. Against Eddie’s ear, seeming way hotter than it has any right to, Richie growls, “Stretch you’re fucking whore hole out of you want my cock, babydoll.” 

Distantly, Eddie thinks he should be shoving Richie off and throwing him out into the hallway. Richie feels heavier and suddenly capable of violence, but Eddie’s body is too wound up in the feel of it all—how good it is to have someone’s undivided attention. Part of him feels smug for getting this dumbass straight boy in his bed, hard as nails to fuck him like Eddie is just as hot as whatever sorority bitch Richie is chasing this week. 

Eddie grits his teeth, but does as Richie’s told him. He reaches down and back to push two fingers in himself. He’d gotten off like this earlier this afternoon while he had the room to himself, before the hall party began, so he’s still a little soft, a little loose. He can’t help the moan that spills out when Richie’s balls brush against the back of his knuckles. They’re heavy and hairy like the rest of Richie. 

“Look at that,” Richie comments. He doesn’t elaborate, but the weight has lifted off enough that Eddie knows he must be watching the progression of Eddie’s fingers. “Another, c’mon, I know you can do it.” 

Eddie can, so he does, sliding his ring finger in even though at this angle he can’t get his fingers very deep. It’s a stretch that burns only slightly. Mostly, it feels good to have something there. When he’s sober, remembering tonight and the stupidly large size of Richie’s dick, Eddie will be glad he listened, that Richie told him to do it. He spreads his fingers slowly, carefully, wondering if Richie is looking at his insides. 

After several long moments, by the time Eddie is whining in his throat because his wrist hurts and he wants what was promised to him, Richie hooks a finger inside Eddie’s palm and tugs until Eddie’s fingers are free of his ass. 

There’s a ghost of a foreign touch against his hole before Richie is saying, “Pretty little cunt.” 

Eddie’s never gone in for pussy talk when it comes to his ass—it’s an ass with an asshole. He’s not a woman, doesn’t have a vagina. But maybe the setting here is key, because now Eddie hears what Richie just said, how he said it, and he feels a dark kind of pride. He knows he’s getting harder, wonders if there’s a little pool of precome spreading on the sheet beneath him. 

“Fuck me.” The words tear out of him as he rocks his hips down to find some friction against his aching cock. “Do it,” he says harshly to try and distract from the fact that he must look kind of slutty right now, ass up and rutting like he is. 

“Yeah.” Richie swallows. Eddie can feel him repositioning above him. “Yeah, I’ll fuck you, stuff you with my big cock until you can’t walk without feeling me there.”

That’s not something Eddie expects to hear. The thought isn’t far off from reality either, now that he’s seen Richie’s hard cock. It’s long and thick, exactly like any guy wishes his own was. He’s never slept with someone who talked this much in bed, and he thinks it’s weird that it’s the straight guy who’s making him blush and writhe just from the dirty shit being said to him. 

Eddie doesn’t have much time to dwell on that though, because there is Richie’s cock pushing inside steadily. It hurts in a far-off kind of way that actually feels _good_ , the stretch and burn of his hole acquiescing to the intrusion takes every bit of Eddie’s attention. 

“God damn, you’re tight.” Richie keeps pushing until he’s fully seated. “Come here,” he says, pulling Eddie backwards until his ass is angled against Richie’s lap. Richie’s knees are beneath Eddie’s spread legs now. “Gonna dick you down good, babydoll.”

Eddie hates how good this feels. Richie pulls out slowly, pushing Eddie’s hips forward until his hole is precariously stretched around the crown of Richie’s cock. 

Richie makes a noise and says, “Your little cunt is trying so hard to keep me inside. You that desperate for it, sweetheart?” He just rocks in and out in tiny increments that drive Eddie out of his mind. 

He wants to be _fucked_. 

“The way you talk,” Eddie breathes out, eyes clenched shut as he pushes back in hopes of getting Richie deeper, “sounds like you’re in awe.” He means it as an insult, a slight to Richie’s sexual history and prowess, but it comes out a little more embarrassed than he means. He follows with another demand. “Shut up and fuck me, Tozier.” 

A hand slams down between Eddie’s shoulders until he’s once again flat on the bed. Richie looms over him and his cock follows. An arm comes up so Richie’s fingers can dig into Eddie’s hair and clench a fist full. “Oh, you wanna be fucked?”

Richie doesn’t move. Doesn’t push deeper or pull out to thrust in again. He stays still, hot breath rolling across the back of Eddie’s neck. Eddie makes some kind of noise, but even he doesn’t know if it’s a moan or a cry. 

“You want it so bad, why don’t you fuck yourself.” Richie’s other hand grips Eddie’s hip and squeezes pointedly. “I’m just a cock to get the job done, right? Why don’t you use me like that sorry ass little toy you probably have hidden beneath your bed.” 

“Turn over then,” Eddie says, thinking about how much he doesn’t want to look Richie in the eye right now. He wants this more than that though, wants to be filled like this and to keep listening to the terrible things Richie is spewing. 

Richie pushes into him, deep as he can go when they’re both lying flat on the bed. “No, babydoll. You got to work harder than that. Show me how bad you want it.”

Eddie feels a cold curl of humiliation. He says, “Stop calling me that” instead of something else. He doesn’t know how to tell Richie he doesn’t want to beg with his body, doesn’t want to lower himself quite that far. But at the same time, Richie’s surrounding him, holding him down, and...no one else has to know. 

No one else will know. Not like Richie is going to be blabbing about fucking the gay kid across the hall. Eddie will probably be his dirty little secret after this, just a memory that Richie will try not to think about the next time he’s plowing into a vagina. So Eddie can use him like this, take that dick as deep and as hard as he wants, just like Richie invited him to do. No one has to know. 

Eddie pushes his hips back again, making a frustrated sound when Richie moves away. The hand in his hair leaves, and the one at his hip drops away so Richie can hold himself up. Suddenly, the only place they’re connected is Eddie’s ass. 

“You want it? You gotta take it, _babydoll_.” Richie says above him. 

Eddie just knows Richie’s head is hanging down, that Richie is staring eagerly at where his dick is splitting Eddie. The thought makes Eddie’s cock drool more precome. He has to get a hand on himself or he feels like he’ll go crazy. One, two strokes as he steadily pushes back onto the hot length of Richie’s cock. 

It takes a few moments for Eddie to find the right angle, but then he’s tilted just right so Richie’s cock slides against his sweet spot. Eddie can’t stop whatever noises are pouring out of his chest, some high pitched and whiny, some deeper and satisfied. Each thrust feels better than the last, stacking pleasure on top of pleasure.

Two fat drops of sweat fall from Richie onto the back of Eddie’s neck, a tickling, suddenly distracting sensation that has Eddie glancing at the shaking column of one of Richie’s arms. Eddie wants to touch him there, wants to curl his fingers over the surprisingly firm curve of muscle roped up and down Richie’s tensed arm. Shoving his hips backwards and forwards faster, Eddie stares, thinking about how much effort it must be taking Richie to hold himself up like that and absorb the wild trusts of Eddie beneath him. 

“You little cockslut,” Richie heaves the words out, sounding delighted and dark all at once. “Look at you go, shortcake. Like to see you bounce on my dick like it’s your job.” 

Eddie groans. 

In one move, Richie is falling down and wrapping his arms around Eddie’s middle so he can turn both of them. They’re spooning, which seems ridiculous, but Eddie clenches tightly around the cock still inside his hole. He starts to protest and question, but Richie cuts his words off. 

“It’s my turn now. Lift your leg up so I can get in you,” Richie demands, moving a hand down to tug Eddie’s left leg up when he gets impatient. 

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groans, somehow feeling Richie deeper, like if he pushed against his stomach, he’d feel Richie’s cock from the outside. 

His hand stays on his own cock. The first rock of Richie’s hips has Eddie’s hand sliding down, and he twists it lazily. The desperate need to come he’d been hurtling towards has ebbed now, maddeningly but also indulgently. He gets to have this fucking weird, hot fuck a little longer. Can burn it into his alcohol drenched brain until he can recall it when he’s alone and lonely, needing the reminder that he did this. 

Richie pistons in and out, slowly but with such force that Eddie can’t hold back the little grunts forced out of his body. It’s really as if Richie has claimed his turn, like Eddie is nothing but a fucktoy for Richie to use at will. Eddie goes lax and lets his body be pushed and tugged, he tilts his head against the mattress and just fucking lets _go_. 

“Wanna come in your tight little ass.” Richie huffs the words out, finally sounding like the effort of fucking Eddie is taking a toll on him. “You want that?”

Eddie does. He didn’t think he would have cared, if he’d bothered to think about it when this all started. He does though. He wants Richie to lose his shit and come so hard he’ll have no choice but to remember the time Eddie got him into bed and made him realize there is more out there than pussy. 

Eddie bares his teeth and grabs for the hand digging into his thigh. Belatedly, he realizes he’ll have bruises from this. Eddie brings Richie’s hand up and wraps it around his cock, finding a mean thrill out of making sure Richie knows he’s fucking a guy. Richie’s fingers curl loosely, then tighten with the slightest suggestion from Eddie’s which are folded on top. 

“Mm, yeah. You want it.” Richie huffs out a dark laugh. His thrusts get more erratic, still deep. He doesn’t try and shake his hand free. 

The head of his cock finds that sweet spot again so instead of just feeling amazing, Eddie feels like he’s hurtling towards space, like he’s going to implode from the dual feeling of his prostrate being stroked just right and Richie’s fist fucking up and down his cock. 

His orgasm rushes through Eddie suddenly, taking his breath for a moment as his body locks up. He gets lost in the sensation, unaware of anything but the euphoria. 

Richie must finish shortly after him, because the next thing Eddie knows is being aware of is Richie’s softening cock slipping out. Eddie winces at the way his hole feels hot and _empty_ where it’s been stretched, where he’d been well and truly fucked. He can feel his come cooling on the side of his wrist and he grimaces this time. 

A laugh pulls Eddie’s attention away from the lazy war in his brain. He wants to get up and clean off, wants to change the sheets and put on clean underwear. He also knows he could just pass out right now until he had to wake up stuck to the sheets, bare assed and gross. 

“Calm down, Eds, or you’re gonna undo all my hard work.” Richie is sitting up when Eddie rolls his head to glare at him. “Well, I got to see you all strung out and relaxed for about five whole minutes at the end.” He says this as if he’s wistful for the sight. 

Eddie catches the way Richie’s gaze slinks down to his ass, like he’s hoping to catch a glimpse of Eddie’s used hole again. Something Eddie can’t identify right now tries to make itself known, but he runs his clean hand over his face. 

It’s then that Eddie realizes Richie somehow managed to keep his glasses on this whole time. They’re just off center of Richie’s nose now, and sweat is beaded up beneath Richie’s eyes like the lenses trapped the heat between them for later. Richie recenters his frames with a push from one thumb while Eddie watches. For a fleeting second, Richie’s expression looks soft. 

“I need water,” Eddie croaks, desperate to put distance between what just happened and how he will feel in the morning. Even though things are still kind of spinny, Eddie can feel the edge of panic just waiting to crash through him when he has the wherewithal to process. 

Richie hasn’t even taken his pants off all the way, a detail that Eddie catalogues as he can’t help but watch Richie put to rights. Richie shimmies his dark corduroys up. The dumb poker themed short sleeved button-up he’d been wearing at the party hangs open over his bare chest. Eddie wonders why he hadn’t bothered with an undershirt. 

Richie looks at him, mouth spreading in a wide smirk. “You waiting on room service or something?” He opens his mouth, and Eddie isn’t surprised when Richie slips into a bad English butler accent to say, “Would Master Kaspbrak be needing a nightcap?”

With a snort, Eddie reaches over to fish his sleep pants off the back of his desk chair. He’d left them folded there this morning. Punching one and then the other foot into their leg holes, Eddie says, “Just water.” He has to stop halfway through pulling his pants up because the room is spinning dangerously. 

A hand guides him back, and Eddie just knows he’s lying in the wet spot. At least his shirt will be the only victim. Richie’s shirt is buttoned wrong now, but Eddie has to close his eyes because it feels like he’s caught in a whirlwind that’s threatening to whisk him away. 

Something cool presses against his cheek. 

“Hey, you gotta sit up, man.” Richie coaxes. 

There’s a bottle of water from the mini fridge held in front of his face. Eddie slowly pushes up on an elbow and doesn’t protest when Richie tips the open bottle against his mouth until cold, refreshing water runs over his tongue. It’s too intimate, and Eddie takes over control of the bottle. In what feels like three pulls, he’s downed all the water. 

“There you go.” Richie says quietly. 

Eddie blushes before crushing the empty bottle and tossing it into the trash bin next to his desk. “Thanks.” He doesn’t meet Richie’s eyes. 

Instead, he carefully lies back down with a frown. 

Richie sits there for almost thirty seconds. Why isn’t he beating feet to get out of here? Eddie feels humiliation trying to churn up from the depths of his mind. A snippet of the conversation that must have led to all of this swims to the forefront of thoughts. 

_“It’s been weeks since I got laid.” Richie had bemoaned as he exhaled smoke. The cherry of his cigarette burned bright in the relative darkness of the fire escape. “Been longer since I got up to anything like that.”_

_Eddie was looking at the couple fucking in the backseat of the Accord six stories below them. He knew Richie was watching the up and down bounce of the car too._

_“Six weeks,” Eddie has confessed by accident, his traitorous tongue supplying even more detail. “And that was just a handjob.” The nail in his coffin had been, “I just want to_ get fucked _.”_

Richie must stand, finally, because the bed shifts uncomfortably. “I’m gonna text Ben, make sure he comes home tonight and checks on you.” There’s a pause that might drag out because Eddie is quickly slipping into sleep. “No sleepovers tonight, huh, Eds?”

“Night, Richie.” Eddie forces they words out, vaguely hoping the words aren’t as slurred as they probably are. 

It feels like something rubs down his leg before his ankle is gently squeezed. Eddie likes it, feels connected and warm. It feels like permission to stave off anxiety for a little longer. 

“See ya around, babydoll.” 

Eddie isn’t sure if he dreamed that or not. 


End file.
